Breaking Point
by Riza's Cupcakes
Summary: Roy Mustang is now the Fuhrer of Amestris, but as he and Riza Hawkeye near the end of their work, a positive pregnancy test leaves Riza facing an impossible choice.


Warnings for pregnancy, abortion, PTSD, and suicidal ideation.

A/N: This is not a happy fic, nor is it meant to be a political one. I left it sitting in my drafts for several months because I didn't want to summon political anons. This is a Royai fic only in the loosest sense of Royai being the central romantic relationship. Mostly, this is a character study in Riza Hawkeye.

* * *

As Riza slumped on the bathroom floor, she counted to ten. The nausea that had sent her here from Roy's office was one thing, but this anxiety was something else entirely. There had been only one attempt on his life since Grumman had named him Fuhrer but it had been a very close thing. And no matter how many times he assured her that it wasn't her fault, that she had still managed to do her duty, the memory of him with a bleeding shoulder from the bullet that nicked him before she managed to take out the assassin was enough to make her feel—well, a little like this, even if it had never made her throw up before.

At least Roy's new office had a private bathroom. She hated to think who might find her like this otherwise. She thought she had been getting better. After several nights spent tossing and turning and kicking Roy awake, he had insisted that she see a doctor about it. And the medicine had helped until this morning. For once, however, it wasn't the anxiety making her sick. No, this time, it was the other way around. The flu came with other symptoms. If it was food poisoning, Roy would be sick too. And on top of everything, she was _late._ With only one possible cause left in her mind, she leaned over the toilet again, even though there was nothing left in her stomach. If she was pregnant, she didn't know what she was going to do.

Her entire body ached as stood to wash her hands and rinse out her mouth at the sink. Handful after handful of cool water did little to wash the taste from her mouth, but at least her stomach seemed more settled with each one. Someone knocked at the door and she jumped in surprise, sloshing water all over herself.

"Are you still in there, Riza?" Roy asked. He must have heard her if he was worried enough to use her first name at work.

Riza moved to open the door. "I'm fine, Sir. Just needed to use the restroom."

"You were in there a long time," he said, eyes widening with concern as he looked her over. "Your uniform's soaked! And you've got something on the corner of your mouth there." He reached up to wipe it away but she stopped him.

"I'm feeling a little off today, but it's nothing I can't manage, Sir." She stepped past him into the office, unwilling to meet his eyes. If she did, she might tell him everything.

Unconvinced, Roy grabbed her arm to stop her. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I had another attack." It was half the truth anyway.

"And it was bad enough to make you throw up, huh? Are they getting worse?" He turned her gently and lifted her chin to look at her face. "Is this because of the meeting?"

She shrugged. "I've had more than enough time to come to terms with that, Sir. We've always known that you would spend your time in office shifting power to parliament."

As if realizing they were much too close for a professional setting, Roy took a step back, letting his hand fall to his side. "If there's anything you need before it starts—something to calm your nerves…" He let the rest go unspoken; he knew perfectly well that she would tell him what she needed if he could get it for her. But this wasn't something he could help her with. She needed a way to leave him long enough to disguise herself and step into a pharmacy. Lunch would be nice, too, now that her nausea had passed.

"I think I'm going to get something to eat," she said. "Do you want anything?" She would find Rebecca on her way out to take her place as Roy's bodyguard.

"No, thanks. I'm still full from breakfast." He smiled at her as she turned away.

Riza slung her purse over her shoulder. "I'll see you at the meeting then."

She found Rebecca in the locker room, putting her rifle away. "Hey, Riza," she said. "Are you leaving early today?"

"I'm just grabbing lunch. Would you mind watching the Fuhrer while I'm out?" Riza opened her locker and removed her civilian clothes.

Rebecca laughed. "I'd rather go with you, but since I'm not one to disobey orders from a superior officer, I'll keep my eye on him."

"Thanks, Rebecca." Riza gave a half smile but it faded as she headed for the private changing stalls. If only she had thought to tell Rebecca about her real reason for leaving early. She wouldn't fuss over her like Roy would; she might have even bought the test for Riza. But maybe it was better to keep her suspicions a secret.

On the street, she bought a cheap pair of overlarge sunglasses before heading for a pharmacy far enough from Central Command that she wasn't as likely to be recognized. The woman behind the counter smiled sympathetically as Riza paid. "You look nervous, dear."

"I am," Riza admitted. "I'm not supposed to be pregnant."

"There, there. We get girls like you in here all the time." The woman patted Riza's hand gently. "Why don't you use our restroom?"

"Thank you," Riza said. In truth, she had been almost as worried about finding a place to take the test as she had about buying it. Even though she had told Roy she planned to buy something to eat, she had no appetite and no desire to go into a cafe just to use the restroom. She followed the cashier into the back and took a deep breath as she locked the door behind her. Even with the sunglasses obscuring half her face, she could see how pale it was. Gritting her teeth, she opened the box. She pushed her sunglasses up onto her hair and read the directions three times before following them with her heart in her throat.

After three agonizing minutes, she forced herself to look at the test again; a pink plus sign stood out against the white background, making her heart skip a few beats. _Pregnant. I can't be pregnant._ She buried her face in her hands and slumped against the sink, resting her elbows on the rim. Of all the things to happen—and of all the days for it to happen—she couldn't think of many that were worse. Immediately, her mind jumped to legislation. If she told Roy now, he could draft some amendment to the fraternization laws in time for them to have a shotgun wedding. A loophole that allowed for a marriage of convenience between the Fuhrer and his bodyguard. It hardly made sense seeing as they already lived together, but it was the only thing she could think of short of the unthinkable decision to abolish the laws entirely and she could never be that selfish. It had to be a loophole, and perhaps Roy could think of a better one.

Maybe she could even retire from the military. Take up a career as a civilian bodyguard. There wasn't a precedent for it, but it would probably be faster than altering an important law. That was it. That had to be the solution. But she had to act fast, before her condition destroyed everything she and Roy had worked for. Biting her lip, she forced herself to stand up as another wave of nausea overpowered her. This time, she didn't make it to the toilet.

"Shit," she muttered, looking at the mess on the floor, the sink, and her clothes. There was no way she would make it back in time now.

She wiped her blouse down as best she would with wet paper towels and left in search of cleaning supplies. Just as she spied a mop and bucket, the door to the shop opened and Riza turned in surprise.

"Is something wrong?" the woman asked.

"No, it's fine. I just made a bit of a mess and I wanted to clean it up," Riza said, wringing her hands. "I'm sorry for the trouble, ma'am."

"It's no trouble. I was young once too. Although, I can see you're not as young as I thought you were." The woman frowned for a moment and took a bottle of cleaner from a shelf. "I don't know you from somewhere, do I?"

Riza struggled to keep her face blank as she realized she hadn't put her glasses back in place. "No, I can't imagine you do." She took the cleaner from Edna and poured three capfuls into the bucket. Adding the water proved much more difficult, between the mess she had made of the sink and the unnerving sensation of the woman watching her from the doorway. If she had remembered where she knew Riza from, she didn't say anything, but Riza was almost more willing to bet on the woman's ability to keep a secret than on her not being able to recall newspaper photographs or Roy's inauguration.

Once the bathroom was spotless, Riza returned the mop and bucket to their corner. She thanked Edna again as she left the store, hoping the stain on her blouse wouldn't draw too much attention.

The walk back to Headquarters was uncomfortably long, and even though she saw no familiar faces and no one tried to approach her, she was still afraid that someone might have noticed. And she didn't want to talk to anyone until she found Roy. The meeting had to be over by now, with all the time she had taken, so it wouldn't be hard to convince him to take her home. Fortunately, she didn't run into anyone until she had reached the locker room and changed into her uniform once more.

Trying to ignore her aching, growling stomach, Riza made her way up to the Fuhrer's office. A few people saluted but no one spoke until she heard Rebecca's voice behind her.

"If I had known you were just trying to get out of that meeting, I would've gone to get food for you," she teased.

Riza turned to see Roy and Rebecca standing behind her. "I didn't know it would take as long as it did," she said. "I'm sorry."

Shaking his head, Roy jammed his hands into his pockets and led the way into his office. "No harm done, Lieutenant Colonel, although I would have liked your help in there."

"Just let me know what I missed, Sir." Riza looked at Rebecca, wondering why she was still there.

"Well, it was just a preliminary discussion, but I believe we'll be able to hand this country over to Parliament within four months," Roy said. "Six at the very outside."

"Six months?" Riza echoed. Her stomach felt as though it had landed somewhere in her boots. For so long, they had dreamed of little else. Wasn't this what she wanted since Ishval? Wasn't this the reason she had promised to follow Roy in the first place? The only thing that had kept her going for all these years was the knowledge that one day the two of them would start the process by which Amestris would come to belong to its citizens rather than its military, but now, that same cold feeling of dread she had once experienced deep beneath this city settled over her heart.

In six months, she would be noticeably pregnant, and that wouldn't make the trial go any faster, wouldn't speed them along to the justice they had worked so hard to attain. If anything, it would get the both of them court martialed first, and then Roy would be executed while her sentence was commuted. Or at least postponed until the baby was born and could be placed for adoption.

Her head began to spin and she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Riza," Rebecca said. "Riza, are you alright?"

"I think she has the flu," Roy said, stepping forward to help steady Riza.

"Rebecca," Riza said, "you should probably get back to work. Thank you for taking over my duties, but I'm fine now."

Rebecca folded her arms. "No, you're not. Have you seen yourself?"

Frustrated, Riza pinched the bridge of her nose. "Please return to your post, Catalina. I can take care of my duties now." She had to make them understand, had to somehow get through the rest of the day until she could get home and think her way out of this. If Roy believed she had the flu, then that would buy her both time and privacy.

"Maybe you should take her home," Rebecca said to Roy.

"I think I will," he said, looking at Riza with concern. "All that's left is paperwork and I can do that anywhere."

The drive home was, for once, uncomfortable. Riza kept both hands on her stomach and her eyes closed as Roy sped through Central. "Do you need me to stop the car?" he asked.

"No, I can make it home," she said. As her anxiety grew, her nausea returned, but she said nothing until Roy pulled into the driveway. She was grateful to be out of the city, that the newly forged distance between the presidential office and the military had required a move from the old mansion within the compound of headquarters to a quiet property well outside the city.

Ever attentive, Roy helped her (far more of a hindrance, but she was supposed to be too ill to complain) into her pajamas and into their bed. He gave her a kiss on the forehead and patted her hand. "If you need anything, I'll be in the study, so just shout."

She nodded and sank beneath the covers. It felt wrong to be in bed in the middle of the day, felt wrong to know that they of all people could create life entirely by accident. She rolled onto her side, looking past Roy's side of the bed into the closet where he had so carefully hung her uniform. The uniform bronze of the hangers lined up along the rod gave her pause. She had been so obsessed with duty and laws and protecting Roy's reputation that she had forgotten the measures they had taken to prevent such a situation, and the measures she could take to keep this burden from him.

Slowly, quietly, so as not to draw Roy's attention from the next room, she pushed back the covers and padded carefully across the rug to the closet. On Roy's side, just barely visible between a boot and the wall, she found a hanger he had tossed aside when it had bowed beneath the weight of the heavy wool pants of his uniform. She stooped to pick it up. Shuffling back to bed in case he decided to procrastinate his work by checking on her, she hid the hanger beneath her pillow. The exposed tip was surprisingly rough beneath her fingertip, and the sensation sent a jolt of fear down her spine. The sheets beneath her were still rumpled from the night before, and a lump formed in her throat as she realized just how quickly her entire world could shift. They had always been so careful, even when they had practically been children themselves. It was difficult to reconcile the pleasure she had experienced just the night before with the cold wire she was now unwinding in secret beneath her pillow, and she swallowed hard at the prospect.

 _No one can know_ , she reminded herself in an attempt to steel her resolve in the face of the awful fear that threatened to overwhelm it and send her running into Roy's arms with the truth spilling from her lips. What could he do to help her anyway? Insist that she keep it? No, he would know it was her choice to make. Would he offer to perform the grisly task for her? Of course not. He would be too afraid of hurting her. As the ends of the hanger sprang apart in her hands, she realized that telling him now wouldn't be the worst way for him to learn the truth. All too clearly now, she could see him walking in to find the bed empty and the stuff of nightmares in the bathroom. In the throes of her imagination, she could see him knocking the hastily capped bottle of isopropanol to the floor and slipping on the alcohol as he tried to remove the hanger. And the blood—so much blood she felt light-headed thinking about it and remembering that awful glint of gold that still surfaced in her nightmares even years later. What would it do to Roy to find her once again in a pool of her own blood, this time by her own hands? She might as well take the gun from the nightstand and blow her own head off now. At least that would spare him the fate of having to explain why he had brought his bodyguard to the ER with a hanger jammed through her cervix. Knox would do the autopsy, of course, and he would have the foresight to keep her pregnancy hushed.

But she had no right, no right at all to take her own life when they were so close to receiving the justice they had worked so hard to attain. And if Knox could keep quiet about the pills he had prescribed under the table, and about that hypothetical autopsy, she realized that she no longer faced an impossible choice. Carefully, she twisted the hanger back together and returned it to its place behind Roy's boots. She drank a little water from the bathroom sink and checked her face in the mirror. The earlier anxiety has been replaced by her usual stoic resolve, but she was still pale enough to be convincing.

Riza dressed herself in civilian clothing and swallowed down the growing lump in her throat as she approached the open door to the study. Roy looked up from his work, frowning at the sight of her. "You need rest," he said.

"I need to go to the doctor," she said. "We have a lot of work to do and I can't waste any time lying around in bed."

With a sigh, he relented, and his features eased back into the familiar mixture of exhaustion and affection she was accustomed to seeing on his face when they were alone these days. "Sit down. I'll call Knox," he said.

She did as he said, curling up in the comfortable old armchair beside the desk with her arms wrapped tight around her stomach. Roy gave her an encouraging smile as he waited for the operator to connect him to Knox. "Hello, Dr. Knox—yes, I'm afraid I do need another favor." He laughed. "Careful, now, you are talking to the Fuhrer. Which is why I can afford to pay you so well for a last-minute appointment. No, I'm fine. Riza's feeling a little off and she would like to see you about something that could get her back on her feet as quickly as possible. I'm aware, but she seems adamant about seeing you. Of course. I'll bring her by right away. Thank you. Goodbye." Roy hung up the phone.

"I can go by myself," she insisted. "You need to work."

"I need to drop these at headquarters," he said, gathering the stack of paperwork he had completed. "Two birds, one stone. You can call me when you're ready to go home."

The guilt Riza felt at deceiving Roy made it easier to continue doing so. As she curled up in the passenger seat, she felt so anxious about it that the nausea that had accompanied her morning sickness returned. The growing dread at the prospect of having to explain her condition to Knox only made things worse, and by the time Roy stopped the car outside Knox's house, he insisted on walking her to the door.

"Do you need me to stay with you?" he asked.

She shook her head. "You have work to do."

"It can wait."

Before she had a chance to think of a response, the door opened and Knox looked Riza over. He said nothing aside from the usual exchange of pleasantries, and Riza was relieved that he had either been fooled by her act or was savvy enough to keep quiet about it. When Roy repeated his offer to stay, Knox waved him off, insisting with some irritation that he was perfectly capable of handling a case of the flu by himself. Riza was only half-listening as her head swam through the possible outcomes of her appointment, and she was hardly even aware of Knox shutting the door in Roy's face and leading her to his office.

"I heard about your breakdown," he said gently. "I should have been the one to tend to you afterward."

Surprised, Riza looked up again. "The pills the other doctor gave me are helping with that," she said. "I'm here for a different reason."

"I assumed as much when Mustang called earlier." Apparently noticing Riza's confusion, he gave her a gentle smile. "There are exactly three people in Amestris who know about your other prescription, and as such, the doctor who helped you then had no reason to warn you of the interaction between the medication she prescribed for you and the one I've been supplying in secret."

"Then why didn't _you_ say something?" she demanded.

Now it was Knox's turn to feel guilty, and Riza's anger with him abated somewhat as he bowed his head. "I never even considered the possibility until this afternoon," he said. "I'm sorry."

Riza took a deep, steadying breath. "Can you make it up to me now?"

That gave Knox pause. He rested his chin on his fingertips and stared at Riza for several moments with various emotions flickering across his face too quickly to be read. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"I know that," Riza said, irritated by his patronizing tone.

"There's no need to get defensive. I was merely stating that this should be your choice and not his."

Riza straightened her back and squared her jaw. "He doesn't know the truth. I told him that I had an anxiety attack, and he brought me home to rest."

"And of course he thinks that just because he's running the country, he gets to order me around over a stomach bug," Knox grumbled. "Same old Mustang."

"If it were just an anxiety attack, I'd never have asked him to call you," Riza said. "But when I started fiddling with that hanger—"

"Hanger?" Knox interrupted, looking horrified. "Don't tell me you were actually considering such a thing."

"I was until I remembered I could ask you to help me find a safer way," she said.

Knox sat back in his chair and drew in a sharp breath threw his teeth. With eyes closed and brow furrowed, he shook his head. "Why is it that every time Mustang fucks up, I'm the one who has to help with the dirty work? Don't you worry, Hawkeye. I won't say a word to him, but you make sure he keeps his word about the extra pay. Abortifacients don't come nearly as cheap as antiemetics."

Relief washed over her for the first time that day. "Thank you, Doctor. Thank you."

He waved her off. "I can complain about Mustang all I want, but I did play a part in this. Go ahead and make yourself at home; I might be awhile." Getting to his feet, Knox left the room, and Riza waited until she heard the front door open and close before she moved. Tucking her legs up until her chin rested on her knees, she finally allowed herself the luxury of shedding the tears she had been holding back. She cried silently, and the tears flowed only for a few moments; it made sense, of course, with the pregnancy hormones wreaking havoc in her brain, but she still hated to cry over something as ridiculous as this. It was the right decision. The _only_ decision. Even her lies to Roy had been for the right reasons, and as she dried her eyes, she realized that she would now be free to tell him the truth should her conscience ever bother her about it again. It wasn't as if he would be able to say anything that might change her mind once she had taken the pill Knox would bring her.

Guilt came crashing back into her heart as she imagined the pain it would cause him to know she had lied, especially when that lie had been born of a fear that he might try to change her mind. In all the time they had been together, he had always trusted her judgement, had always known that arguing with her was pointless once her mind had been made up. Even at work, he had given her as few orders as possible and had never truly pressed the matter on ones she had refused. Hell, the only reason they had been able to justify their flagrant disregard for the laws had been the fact that Roy had been her superior in title only and never in his treatment of her.

As she sank back into the chair, she could feel the fabric of her shirt catch on the scar tissue along her left shoulder blade, providing yet another reminder of how cruel she had been to assume he would have coerced her into continuing the pregnancy. He had burned her back despite his reservations, had taken her as his aide happily after she expressed her change of heart about remaining in the military after all. No memory of happier times and irritating phone calls would dampen Roy's unwavering respect for Riza's right to make decisions for herself, and she had been a fool to believe that they would.

She was still curled up in a tight ball when Knox returned with a glass of water and a small pouch. He handed her the water and removed a pill from the pouch. "Take this," he said. She did as instructed, and he handed her the pouch in exchange for the empty glass. "There's another pill in there. Take it in 48 hours, and take things easy. There will be bleeding for a few days, but I'm sure you can convince Mustang that you were late."

"Yes, I am already prepared for that possibility. Thank you," she said, clutching the pouch as tightly as she would a lifeline.

"You're welcome. Before you go, we should discuss your birth control situation."

Riza nodded. "If I insist we return to using condoms, he might realize that I lied to him."

"Do you think your anxiety would be manageable without medication?" Knox asked. "I could provide a regimen to ease you off it so you would no longer be at risk of becoming pregnant."

After a moment's hesitation, Riza nodded again. "I believe so. Right now, the biggest factor in my anxiety is the pregnancy."

"Can you tell me what you're taking, including the dosage?"

Riza did so and watched as Knox scribbled out a regimen for her on a pad of paper. He tore the top sheet away once he had finished, handing it to her. Carefully, she folded the sheet and tucked it into the pouch he had given her. When she asked to use the phone to call for a ride, he handed it to her and left to do some reading, saying he had no interest in seeing Roy when he arrived. Riza showed herself out and waited on the curb for Roy to arrive.

"What did he say?" Roy asked as he got out of the car and sat beside her. "You were here so long I was starting to worry."

"He had to go to the hospital to get something for the nausea, and then he had to give me instructions on coming off my anti-anxiety pill. He thinks I should try something else if the medication I'm on isn't working." Riza showed him the pouch and opened it to reveal the pill and the paper. That seemed to be enough for Roy, because he helped her into the car without asking further questions. While he drove, she read over the instructions, relieved to find that her dosage had been low enough that it would be safe to rely on her birth control again by the time the bleeding stopped.

It almost hurt that he couldn't see through the lies the way he always had in the times when she had been forced to keep secrets. Had they been growing apart without realizing, or did he simply trust her so completely he was unable to fathom that she might lie without threats hanging over her head? Either way, it killed her to think about it. She wasn't sure if the cramping or the guilt at her dishonesty held more responsibility for the knots in her stomach.

"You feeling up to Xingese tonight?" Roy asked.

She nodded, relieved that they wouldn't be going home just yet. He rarely wore the boots she had hidden the ruined hanger behind, but she still felt uneasy at both the prospect of its discovery and the memory of the desperation that had driven her to consider such a thing. Roy parked a block away from their favorite takeout place, and Riza followed him into the alleyway, hoping she looked the part of a bodyguard rather than the ill and exhausted woman she felt like. In spite of her earlier misgivings, she wanted nothing more than to be home, curled up and safe in Roy's arms even though she knew she did not deserve such a thing after lying to his face.

They were among friends now—Xingese immigrants who had known Roy's mother and were pleased to see one of their own rise to the top of the nation—and Riza relaxed her guard. In the years since Roy had begun the task of overseeing a trade alliance with Xing, she had studied the language with him, and she was fully aware of the almost familial teasing about their inevitable marriage. Tonight was no exception, and the words cut her to the core even as she forced a smile while Roy explained that they were still far too busy to waste time thinking about a solution to their situation, let alone to plan a wedding. It was only when he was scolded for taking so long to make an honest woman out of her that Riza lost her composure.

"She's already having a bad day, so would you lay off on this?" Roy snapped. He put an arm around Riza, and in Amestrian, said, "Are you okay?"

She shook her head and he continued to keep a steadying hold on her as he ordered their dinner. Outside, he resumed the previous distance, though he kept looking back at her over his shoulder, concern etched into the shallow lines of his face. It was only in the privacy of their living room that he dared show the true depths of his affection again. As she curled up on one corner of the sofa with a box of lo mein, Roy sat beside her, stroking her hair away from her face as she ate, apparently having forgotten his own food.

"You need to eat," she said.

"I need to take care of you."

She aimed her next bite at his mouth and he opened obligingly, slurping the noodles from her chopsticks. "I can take care of both of us," she said.

"Letting yourself be vulnerable won't cause the world to fall apart," he grumbled, accepting another bite as he continued playing with her hair.

"It might." She attempted to wriggle out of his arms until he finally relented and scooted away to eat his own dinner. Whenever he offered her a bite to make up for the ones she had given him, she merely shook her head.

They finished eating in silence. Roy knew her well enough to sense when she wanted to be left alone ( _But not well enough to realize that I've been lying to him_ ). By the time they settled into bed for the night, she felt as though her heart might burst from the pain, but she said nothing, only cuddled into Roy's embrace and tried not to hate herself for it as he rubbed her back reassuringly. Over and over he whispered that it was going to be okay, that whatever Knox recommended, he would support her and take care of her until she was back to her old self. Worst of all, he whispered that he loved her, and rather than whisper it back—even though it was as true as ever—she pretended she was asleep until she was.

Morning came with the jarring ring of her alarm and the gentle sensation of Roy's lips against her forehead. She reached blindly until she found the clock and stop the alarm, then allowed herself a few moments to savor the kisses Roy lavished across her face, arriving at her mouth last of all. She returned the kiss, though she shoved down the longing it awakened in her, and snuggled deeper into his arms.

"I know you went to Knox so you could get back to work sooner," Roy said once she had turned away from the kiss, "but if you need more time off, I'd be happy to take care of you." He pushed her bangs away from her eye with such a gentle affection that it broke her heart.

"There's no time for either of us to waste," Riza said.

He frowned. "Making sure you're okay is hardly something I'd call a waste of time."

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not." He brushed his fingers over her face the way he had when he was blind. "Something's eating you alive, and until Knox can find a new medicine for you, it's only going to get worse."

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. "In six months, none of this will matter. I just need to put it out of my mind until then."

"If you won't think of yourself, then at least think of what it will do to me to spend the last six months of my life watching you suffer like this."

"You don't have to watch."

She regretted that as soon as she said it. Roy flinched at the words, and though he tried to conceal it, she could tell that he was hurt by her attempt to push him away. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean it like that. I just—I don't want to steal your attention away from more important things."

"Nothing is more important to me than you are." He kissed her again, as if that could ease the pain he could discern so effortlessly. She had to admit, however, that it did help a little. When he pulled back, he rubbed his nose against hers. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Toast will do."

"There's a little cantaloupe left from yesterday. Would you like some of that, too?"

"Sure."

He kissed her cheek before getting out of bed. She started to sit up, but he held out a hand to stop her. "Just rest. I'll bring it up on a tray."

"I don't deserve you," she said.

"No," he agreed, "you deserve someone a lot better."

She rolled onto her back as he left, her head coming to rest somewhere in the space between their pillows. It made her skin crawl to stay in bed so long when she was meant to be working. Worse still was how kind Roy was to her. Holding her and kissing her and making her breakfast in bed—when he should be throwing her out for betraying his trust. She covered her face with her hands to block out the summer sunlight that filtered through the sheer drapes. The way forward was simple. All she had to do was to keep Roy from finding out what she had done, and in six months, it wouldn't matter anymore. Nothing would.

After breakfast, Roy kissed her on the cheek and told her he would be in the study if she needed him, and Riza settled under the covers, hoping that more sleep would take the edge off the cramps. At first, she struggled to get comfortable. She tossed and turned and punched her pillow into a less lumpy state but just when she started to drift off, the sensation of blood against her thigh jolted her awake again.

Frantic, she kicked the covers off and leapt out of bed. To her relief, the sheets were still clean, but the right leg of her pajama shorts had a red stain along the inseam. She groaned in frustration. At least she could pass this off as having forgotten her period since Roy had yet to ask why she was so late. She waddled to the bathroom with a fresh pair of underwear in hand. Removing her shorts revealed a thick, messy clot of blood and tissue caught between the fabric and her skin; some dark part of her mind surfaced just long enough to call attention to the possibility that it could very well contain the embryo she was trying to abort. A grim sense of irony twisted her lips as she mopped it up with toilet paper. Though she was well aware that, at this stage of development, it could hardly be counted as a human being, she was so accustomed to other women speaking of their pregnancies as though they were already mothers that it was almost natural for her mind to jump from her hasty attempts to dispose of her own not-quite-child to the Ishvalan child she had once buried with her own hands, and for the first time, she felt a surge of guilt that forced her breakfast out of her stomach and all over the bathroom.

Roy must have heard, for a moment later, there was a knock at the door. "Riza? Do you need me to hold your hair?"

"No," she said, "but a bucket would be nice." _Stop it,_ she chided herself while Roy hurried away, presumably to find a bucket. _You're being irrational._ The pregnancy and the pill were fucking with her hormones, and the former was still attempting to convince her to love it so she would be prepared to look after a baby in a few months' time. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath to steady herself and tried to call up memories of pictures she had seen during her childhood. An egg. A clump of cells that gradually changed into what may as well have been a near-microscopic tadpole. For fuck's sake it didn't even look like a human, and she had no reason to react to it as though it had been.

Roy knocked again. "I brought the bucket."

"Leave it there. I'll clean up after myself."

"Can I come in?"

"No," she said a little too quickly.

"Are you sure you're alright?" He sounded so worried it hurt Riza's heart. She didn't deserve his concern or his love, not while she was deceiving him like this. _Not when you murdered his child,_ that cruel voice added, and she stifled a sob as she attempted to tune it out. Hearing her cry was the only answer Roy needed to open the door, and his eyes widened in horror at the sight. "Shit, Riza, what happened?"

And then— _fucking hormones_ —she was crying. There were still streaks of blood on her legs, not to mention the vomit that covered both her and the floor, but Roy sank to his knees beside her anyway and let her squeeze him as she sobbed. When she pulled back, still shaking slightly, but at least in control once more aside from the odd hiccough, he patted her knee gently and retrieved a washcloth from the cupboard. He soaked it with warm water and began to clean her gently, starting with her mouth and finishing by helping her remove the soiled clothing, which he hung over the edge of the laundry hamper. Wordlessly, he mopped the floor, though he occasionally sent reassuring glances in her direction.

Once both Riza and the bathroom were clean, he brought her fresh pajamas and underwear and she almost started crying again when he started to leave with the hamper. "This really was shitty timing for you to have another breakdown," he said sympathetically. "I can't imagine how much worse it must be when you're on your period. I'll go put this in the washing machine, and then I'll come get back in bed with you, okay?" All she could do was nod.

It was a relief to be back in bed, nestled between the cool sheets, and knowing that Roy would be join her soon. She still felt weak and shaky, but at least she was clean and taken care of, whether she deserved it or not. Despite her exhaustion, she was still wide awake when Roy returned. The bed shifted and his arms encircled her from behind, drawing her into his chest. He pressed soft kisses into her hair and her eyelids began to droop at last. "Shouldn't you be working?" she asked.

"I'm supposed to stay with my bodyguard," he said.

"I don't think it counts when you're the one looking after me."

"Shh," he said soothingly, finding her hand and lacing his fingers through hers. "Just rest."

 _The wind blew sand into Riza's eyes, but she dared not close them. She was meant to be watching—what else was a Hawk's Eye good for? Still, it came as a surprise when a child appeared in her scope. His skin was pale and she jerked her head back in surprise to find that he was no longer at the foot of the cliff but directly in front of her, crouched beside her rifle. A mess of dark hair fell in his eyes. "I thought you were gonna shoot me, Mommy. Why would you shoot me? Don't you love me?" She tried to speak, but when she blinked, the child was gone. She looked back through her scope and her blood froze in an instant. There was a bullet hole in his head, and blood trickled into his hair and spread across the sand, creating a thick red mud all the way to the horizon._ Riza was still screaming when she woke.

"It's okay, I've got you," Roy said, and he helped her roll so she was facing him. She buried her face in his chest, struggling to find comfort in the steadiness of his heartbeat. "It was just a nightmare. It wasn't real."

"I know," she said, hating that she sounded close to tears again. "I know it was."

He stroked her hair gently, and she could sense the question forming in his mind before he asked it. "What was it this time?"

She shook her head, and thankfully, he didn't press her about it, only held her until she stopped trembling. At length, she lifted her head to look at him. She had kept enough secrets, told enough lies, that she had to tell him the truth about this. "It was Ishval, except—there was a child. Our child—he had to have been. And I shot him. Roy, I killed our child!"

"It was just a dream, remember, just a dream. We don't have a child. You're home and you're safe. I've got you."

It took every bit of self-control left in her not to start screaming again, to hold back the panicked words bubbling in her throat that would ruin everything. He was right; they didn't have a child. They never would. And though she deserved to have been the one to bleed out on that endless expanse of sand, she was here in the arms of someone who loved and understood her more than anyone else ever could, and whose love she returned in kind. Perhaps it was a childish thing to wonder, but she had to know, and she had just enough strength held in reserve to ask: "Roy, you wouldn't hate me if I did something bad, would you?"

Of all the responses he could have given, he laughed. It started as a light chuckle, but eventually, his entire body was shaking as he held her, and he wiped tears from the corners of his eyes. At last, he caught his breath again, and pushed her hair back from her face. "Riza, you've murdered Amestrian citizens in cold blood and I still have never loved anyone even half as much as I love you. What could you possibly do that's worse than the things you and I have already done?"

"I'm being foolish," she mumbled. "Forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive. You're scaring the hell out of me, though." He caressed her face as though that could fix things. Maybe it could have once, when they were young and innocent and the passion of a first love could hold the universe in balance. But she was older now—so much older—and she had long since accepted that there were broken things in her that Roy's love could not touch, let alone mend. She doubted he would ever accept that, even though he was certainly aware of such things within himself.

Her stomach rumbled then, distracting them both from the heavy silence. "Do you think you can keep food down?" Roy asked. "I can bring you applesauce if you still feel queasy."

"I can't ask you to keep waiting on me," she protested.

"Then don't ask." He kissed her gently before getting out of bed. "Is applesauce good, or would you rather have a sandwich?"

Riza curled up, retreating from the empty space Roy had left behind. "I'll be content with whatever you bring."

That brought a scowl to his face, and he folded his arms impatiently across his chest. Even without a word, she knew he was thinking about how stubborn she was, how he admired her for it even though it infuriated him at times. "I'm just trying to help," he said in a defeated tone.

"You've already done more than enough for me."

He sat on the edge of the bed and reached for her hand, which he took in both of his. "I want to do more. Maybe I could if you'd tell me what it is that set off this attack, but for now, I'll have to settle for making you a sandwich."

She jerked her hand away and buried her face in the pillow to hide the tears that never came. She felt Roy's weight leave the bed and heard him leave the room. Loneliness overwhelmed Riza, finding a home in all the tiny cracks in her heart that had opened up in the past twenty four hours. Still, the tears didn't come, and the vast, empty room may as well have been the desert she had woken from. She couldn't bear to be alone any more than she could bear to be near Roy while she was deceiving him. For just a moment as she trembled beneath the covers, she felt like a child again, all alone in her old bedroom with no one to confide in. If only she had told the truth from the beginning, perhaps she wouldn't feel so miserable.

And so the day passed, with Roy bringing her food and juice and lying in bed with her until she told him to do his work, only to return with another glass to repeat the cycle. When it was nearly time for bed, he coaxed her into the shower, and she had to admit it was nice to feel clean again. When she left the bathroom, Roy handed her a mug of chamomile tea to drink while he took a shower of his own. The tea was honey-sweetened and the light, grassy scent alone was enough to dull the edge of her nerves. She sipped and the sounds of the shower kept her loneliness at bay until Roy returned, looking as exhausted as she felt.

He climbed into bed, cuddling up to her as he lay down. His head came to rest in her lap and she used her free hand to play with his damp hair. "Thank you for the tea," she said.

"I figured you could use something to help you relax," he said.

She drained the last of it and set the mug aside. "You're tired."

"I am. I dusted the entire study today, and I got through half the paperwork on my desk."

"You could have gotten through all of it if you hadn't procrastinated so much," she said.

He shook his head. "It needed to be dusted and you needed someone to make sure you had enough fluids in you."

"I hope I don't sound ungrateful. I really do appreciate it…" She settled down under the covers until Roy's head was on her chest rather than her legs. "I love you," she said, thinking better of the self-deprecating track she had nearly ventured down instead.

"I love you, too." He buried his face in the crook of her neck. "If I could take whatever it is that's hurting you, I would."

Riza couldn't help but allow herself a wry smile at that. "You've done more than enough for me."

"I'd do anything you wanted. If you want a new pair of earrings, a trip to Aerugo, someone to talk to—you name it." There was an earnestness in his voice that almost drew the truth from her. Almost.

"Goodnight, Roy," she said with a note of impatience, and she closed her eyes in the hope that the night would be dreamless.

The days Riza bled passed in much the same way, though the nightmares shifted back to more familiar territory. Every night, Roy would ask if she was ready to talk about what was bothering her, and every night, Riza would avoid the subject. She could tell that it pained him to be shut out while she was suffering, but the longer she spent maintaining the lie, the harder it would be to confess.

At last, the bleeding stopped and the day of her follow-up appointment with Knox arrived. Roy offered once again to stay with her, but she told him he had more important things to do and went inside by herself, feeling almost as small as she had the last time she had come. Knox had told her that there was always a small chance that the pills would fail. As soon as Knox had closed the door behind her, he held out a pregnancy test similar to the one she had taken on that first, awful day. She nodded her thanks and stepped into the bathroom to take it.

The blue line brought a feeling of weightlessness. For the first time since before her breakdown, Riza felt an almost blissful relief rising in her chest. She showed the test to Knox, and she could see her own relief mirrored in his face.

"Is there anything else you need from me?" he asked.

She was about to ask to use the phone when she remembered. "I followed your regimen. Is it safe to rely on my birth control again? Now that I've stopped bleeding, I don't have any excuses but lies, and I know Roy will see through them."

Knox looked somewhat uncomfortable at the sudden shift, but he took it in stride. "As long as you haven't stopped taking it, it should be reliable," he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Thank you, Doctor."

When Roy arrived, he paid Knox and thanked him, giving Riza a gentle kiss on the top of the head as Knox told him it was no trouble at all. They drove home with the windows down, and Riza closed her eyes to enjoy the breeze that ruffled her hair. She must have looked content, because Roy said, "You know, I was skeptical at first, but it looks like Knox really knows his stuff. I haven't seen you look this happy in months."

"It's a relief to know I'm going to be alright," she said. That tiny piece of truth was also a relief in and of itself.

"I'm happy to know that, too." He reached over to squeeze her leg, but quickly returned his hand to the wheel before she could point out that neither of them would be alright for very long if he drove recklessly.

They ate lunch on the balcony off their bedroom; it felt so perfectly normal that Riza could almost forget where she had spent the morning, and what she had gone through over the past week. As they ate, Roy couldn't keep his eyes off of Riza. She couldn't help but notice. In spite of everything, the lust in his eyes was contagious, and it was all they could do to finish eating before abandoning their dishes for the bed.

They hadn't bothered to close the doors, and the breeze felt scandalous against Riza's bare skin as Roy settled between her legs. She watched the drapes flutter as she tangled her fingers in his hair, unable to hold back sighs of pleasure. Intimate, comforting. _Normal._ She couldn't remember the last time she had felt that.

Until he pushed into her. Something she had once loved now made her scream in terror, and instantly, Roy pulled out in response, moving to kneel beside her. Taking her hand. "Riza, are you okay? Did I hurt you? What's wrong?"

"I—I can't tell you," she said, trying desperately to avoid his concerned eyes, lest he read the truth in her own.

He pulled her into his arms, cradling her while she shook with suppressed sobs; his acceptance killed her. He could have pried, could have pleaded with her to tell him, but instead, he showered her with all the love and affection she did not deserve. He must have known that she had been lying to him all along, but he didn't care. He didn't care and she hated herself because he loved her anyway.

"I don't know what you're hiding, and I don't know why, but I want to help you. I don't want you to feel like you have to go through whatever you're going through alone." His fingers stroked her hair as he gave her a slow, reassuring kiss. It was almost enough to break down her last line of defense. Almost. Instead, when he pulled away, she simply stroked his cheek in gratitude, fully aware that he could read the sadness in her eyes. "Let's get dressed," he said. "We can go for a walk instead."

Hand in hand, they strolled through the woods behind the mansion. The sunlight through the leaves flooded Riza with memories, and a single glance at Roy told her that he was also thinking of childhood days spent roaming the countryside together. If she could go back to any point in her life, she decided she would go back to those days—before Roy had left to join the military, before her tattoo. If they had run away to get married back then, maybe they could have been happy. Maybe she could have carried his child to term without a single regret. They could have made it all the way to the sea the way he had once promised they would.

After an hour, Roy broke the silence. "I'm not ready to leave this behind," he said. "I know it's selfish, but now that I finally have you, I want to keep you like this forever. I guess that's part of the punishment, huh?" With his free hand, he reaches up to touch the corner of his eye. "I learned once that Truth—that the Universe—works that way. I may have gotten my sight back, but it will take my eyes again in the end. All of them."

She squeezed his hand. "I thought you had accepted that a long time ago."

"I've accepted that I will die, but I hate to think of a world without you, even if I don't have to live in it." He took a deep breath, sounding closer to falling apart that she had expected he was. "Life has been so unkind to you, Riza, I—"

"That's enough," she said curtly. "Life may have been unkind to me, but I'm the one who made the choice to join the military, and in spite of that, you have made me happier than I deserve."

He brought a hand up to caress her face. "But you aren't happy now."

She leaned into his hand, fighting back the urge to tell him everything. The words were easy enough to hold back, but somehow the tears slipped past her defenses. Roy wiped each of them away, and he held her without saying a word until the tears ran dry. For the rest of the night, he remained at her side—holding her hand, offering her a tissue, reminding her that he was willing to listen whenever she was ready to talk. The more affection he lavished her with, the more she wanted to tell him everything.

At last, when they were snuggled up in bed, Riza with her head in the crook of Roy's neck as he read over some of the paperwork he had neglected in favor of caring for her, she cleared her throat nervously. Roy set the papers aside to give her his full attention as he stroked her arm in encouragement. "What would happen if I got pregnant?" she said.

"Is that what you've been so worried about?" he asked, sounding almost relieved. "It won't happen. You're the most responsible person I know."

She shook her head. "Ninety-nine percent effectiveness still leaves a one percent chance of failure. What if that one percent happened to us? What would we do?"

"Why do I get the feeling you're looking for a specific answer?" Roy grumbled. "I guess the first order of business would be to marry you, although there'd be a scandal either way. It would be nice to know you wouldn't be executed, but I don't want to abandon you and this hypothetical child."

"So you would want me to keep it." She struggled to get her response past the lump that had formed in her throat, but once the first sentence came out, it seemed to sweep away the dam inside her until she was once again a sobbing mess in his arms. "Roy, I couldn't keep it. I couldn't keep our baby for you."

"What the hell are you—" He froze, and understanding flickered in his eyes at last.

"That's why I went to Knox. No one else could know about us, so I had to go to him to—to have an abortion." Silence followed, and Riza's heart was in her throat until Roy pulled her into his arms even tighter than before.

His lips came to rest on the crown of her head, alternating between kisses and apologies. "You could have told me," he said, sounding close to tears himself. "You didn't have to go through that alone."

"But you wanted me to keep it," she said.

"No, no, Riza, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—I shouldn't have said that. You made the right choice; no matter how much I wish we could have kids together, it would be a terrible and selfish thing." He kissed her again, and she felt the first of his tears in her hair. Shuddering breaths shook his body, fracturing the comfort his embrace had given her.

Hesitant as though her world were about to crumble all the way to dust around her, Riza at last dared give voice to the question that had gnawed at her heart and kept her quiet all this time: "Are you angry with me?"

"Angry? Why would I be angry with you?" he asked, sounding puzzled. "If anything, I'm angry with myself for not realizing what was going on from the start, for not being there for you."

"I lied to you," she said. "I was too afraid that you would let your emotions get in the way. I'm sorry I didn't trust you."

"Do you trust me now?" he asked. When she nodded, he squeezed her tighter. "Then tell me everything."

The words came slowly at first, to Riza's surprise, but as the hours ticked past, she told him of the pregnancy test, of the broken hanger in the closet, of the drug interaction—of every bit of truth she had concealed from him since that morning when she had first thrown up in his office. And when she had finished, she felt something like healing spread through her. Roy was blinking back tears as he whispered apologies, telling her how grateful he was that she had thought of Knox before attempting to perform her own abortion. For the rest of her life—however short that may be—she would never forget the horror in his eyes when she had told him what she had originally planned to do.

By this time next year, it wouldn't matter that she hadn't bled out in their shower. The grass would be growing on her grave all the same, and on his beside it. No more guilt, no more grief—only the respite they had each been longing for. Wide awake in Roy's arms, she could feel his heart beating in his throat, and she knew she would not be the only one to dream of their child that night. In a way, this was a far harsher sentence than the one that would be doled out by their future jury. It was only a fraction still, but it was another piece of what might have been stolen from them. She had never performed a single transmutation in her life, but she had committed a taboo nonetheless, and she had been paying its toll for years by throwing away every chance at having a truly happy life. The pregnancy had been a reminder that, by sharing more than just brief, stolen nights with Roy, she was no longer holding up her end of the bargain.

It was enough to make her cling tighter to him, and he responded in kind, stroking her back and whispering words of love they both knew would do nothing to fix her breaking heart; there was no longer enough time left in her world to fix it, Her lips twitched with a trace of irony, for it was that realization that calmed her at last. She knew that the nightmares would come, just as they had for years, but with Roy there to wake her now that he knew what they might entail, she found that sleep came almost easily, and nestled between the feverish horrors that nearly made her cry out, there was a sunlit meadow and a dark-haired girl who sat in her lap, weaving a chain of flowers that she placed on a napping Roy's face. In another life, perhaps; in a different and kinder world. In this one, Riza lay with her eyes closed against the grey predawn light, struggling to hold onto that happy memory of what might have been, and gentle fingers wiped the bittersweet tears from her cheeks. Without saying a word, Roy told her that it didn't have to be morning yet if she did not want it to be, that he would move heaven and earth to hold her world together. All she could do was shake her head; enough time had been wasted on her grief already, and she no longer had any excuses to shirk her duties, and so with one last, fond look at the dream family that was already fading from her memory too fast to preserve, she opened her eyes.


End file.
